


no longer alone

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [11]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood Loss, Episode: s01e11 Alone Time, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: Takes place at the end of Alone Time.Gil is the first to arrive at Jessica's house after Malcolm has taken down John Watkins.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557952
Comments: 41
Kudos: 229





	no longer alone

**Author's Note:**

> All works in this series are stand alone.
> 
> You don't have to have read the others to read this one.
> 
> I was just sad that the episode stopped where it did and wanted a little more. So this happened!
> 
> Also, big, big thank you to KateSamantha for looking this one over and picking a title!

_Where would he be?_

_I know where Watkins took my boy._

_Where?_

_Oh, no. He's gonna kill them all._

\---

"Dammit Martin, tell me where he took Malcolm!" Gil fists Martin's shirt even tighter, just barely holding himself back from shaking the man in frustration.

The glazed look that's been clouding Martin's eyes fades away as he looks at Gil, then slowly seeps back in. He's clearly fighting the effects of the Benzodiazepines that he'd been administered but the hard-won lucidly comes in waves. He's in and out, blinking his eyes open only to have them roll back in his head until Gil calls his name once more.

"Martin! Where is Watkins?"

"Basement," Martin's head lolls forwards and Gil finally gives in to the urge and roughly shakes the man. Martin's head snaps up and he blinks owlishly at Gil as he slurs, "Tun'ls, un'r Milton family home." He barely gets the last word out before he loses consciousness and slumps back against the wall.

Gil shoots to his feet and races out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he runs down the corridor to call for units to be dispatched to Jessica's house. His already strained nerves are tested at every checkpoint along the way, having to stop and wait for a guard to open each door before he can keep moving. It's a full on sprint to his car as he finally exits the facility, heart pounding so hard in his chest that it's physically painful.

He slaps the bubble light on the roof of his car and peels out of the parking lot, the squeal of the tires drowned out by the wailing siren. He thinks about calling JT or Dani, but they're still out in the woods after raiding the Watkins cabin. He knows that he _should_ call Swanson and at least let her know about the lead, but he's positive that the woman would order him to wait to breach the house until they got back. And Malcolm may not have time for that.

So instead of on the phone, the entire drive to Jessica's house is spent in prayer; that he gets there in time, that Malcolm is still alive, that Watkins hasn't hurt Jessica or Ainsley yet. And above all, he prays that if Malcolm is still alive, he hasn't been irreparably damaged. The kid's mental state is borderline on the best of days and Gil's stomach twists painfully at the thought of what nearly an entire day in a serial killer's captivity may have done to his fragile psyche.

Swerving through traffic at dangerous speeds, he breaks damn near every traffic law in his haste to get there before it's too late. He's white-knuckling the steering wheel and has to force his hands to loosen their grip as he narrowly avoids hitting yet another vehicle while blowing through his fifth red light.

It's a miracle in itself that he makes it there in one piece. He brings the car to a screeching halt, half on the sidewalk, and finds two squad cars just pulling up. He flashes his badge to the officers as they get out of their cars, "Lieutenant Arroyo, Detective Squad. We may have a serial killer and three potential hostages inside." He's jogging up the few stairs to the front door as he speaks, only stopping to pull his gun before he quietly tries the front door, finding it unlocked.

One deep breath in, a slow and steady exhale out, and Gil pushes in the front door, quiet steps leading him into the foyer. He's immediately greeted with the sight of a large trunk in the sitting room ahead and can hear pitiful moans coming from within. It's a man, Gil is sure, and it's not Malcolm. He's sat with the kid through enough nightmares to know exactly what his terror sounds like, and that isn't it. He follows a hunch and waves two officers to the trunk before calling out.

"Malcolm?"

"Gil!?" Jessica cries out from upstairs, fear and relief ringing in equal measure in the one broken word.

Gil takes the stairs two and three at a time, gun still drawn as he braces himself for what he's about to find. Jessica's waiting for him in the hallway as he clears the last of the stairs and he reaches out to grasp her arm in relief as she leads him towards the bedroom.

"Oh thank God you're here," she breathes out uneasily as they walk, "something's wrong with Malcolm."

He walks into the bedroom to find Malcolm sitting on the bed staring vacantly forward while Ainsley slumps beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. It looks to Gil like she's asleep, but the blood on the side of her head has him instantly worried. He casts a concerned look to Jessica and she heads directly over to Ainsley, cupping her face in her hands.

"Oh baby," she whispers, "you need to keep your eyes open, remember?" Ainsley's eyes slowly blink open but she seems disoriented to Gil and he immediately recognizes the signs of a concussion.

While Jessica is busy with Ainsley, Gil drops to one knee in front of where Malcolm is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched and defeated and staring at nothing. Gil's eyes glance over the kid, assessing the various injuries that are immediately visible. It's hard to see just how bad it is with all the lights out, but he can definitely make out a head injury, a bandaged hand, and a large blood strain on his shirt. He wants to reach out - to comfort him and to make sure he's truly alright - but he's unsure if his touch, if any touch, would be welcome.

"Bright?" he whispers, voice unsteady. "Bright, can you hear me?" A little louder the second time, but there's still no response from Malcolm. He doesn't even blink. Gil notices Jessica looking over at Malcolm, her eyebrows furrowed in concern at his unresponsiveness.

"How long has he been like this?" Gil asks. "Jess, what happened?"

"He was walking and talking until a few minutes ago. He said that Watkins wouldn't be able to hurt us anymore and then when we had him sit down he just…" she gestures helplessly to Malcolm's nearly catatonic state.

One of the officers comes into the room as Jessica is speaking and makes his way directly to Gil. "Sir, we're clearing the house but we've already removed a man from the premises that was locked in that trunk downstairs."

Malcolm's breathing picks up into short pants at the mention of the trunk. Gil had already noticed that Malcolm's left hand is heavily bandaged and held closely to his body, but now his right has begun to shake, the chain attached to his wrist rattling at the involuntary movement. As worried as Gil is about touching Bright, he can't just leave him like this, alone and scared. He nods briefly to the officer, dismissing him, and then reaches out to wrap Bright's cold hand in the warmth of his own.

"It's okay, you're safe now." He gives Malcolm's hand a squeeze as he talks, keeping his voice low and even. "You did good, kid. And it's over now. You're safe, and so are Jessica and Ainsley."

Mention of his mother and sister finally seems to draw a response and he blearily blinks at Gil. There's a sorrow in Malcolm's eyes that punches the air out of Gil's lungs, makes him want to pull Bright into his arms and shield him from the world.

"Hey there, kid. Welcome back," Gil offers a warm smile but it's tinged with sadness. Malcolm obviously has a number of physical injuries, but Gil is currently more concerned about his mental wellbeing.

"Gil?" Malcolm's voice is tiny and fractured and confused.

"Yeah, kid, I'm here." Gil continues rubbing his hands over Malcolm's, trying to keep him grounded. "Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

Malcolm instinctively pulls his left arm against his side but Gil notices how Malcolm's eyes dart over to Jessica before he shakes his head and mutters, "I'm fine."

Gil huffs out a breath but doesn't press. Not yet. Instead, he turns his head to Jessica who is dabbing a towel against the cut on Ainsley's head as the younger woman tries to swat her away. Gil is pleased to see that Ainsley is looking far more alert than when he first came in the room.

"Jessica, the medics should be here soon. Do you think you could help Ainsley down to meet them?"

Jessica is quite obviously about to argue, and Gil can fully understand why she doesn't want to leave Malcolm, but he knows he'll have a better chance of finding out just how badly Malcolm is injured if Jessica and Ainsley aren't around to hear it. He shoots the woman a weighted look and, thankfully, she seems to get the message. She looks quickly over to Malcolm, taking in his downcast eyes and the way he's curled tightly into himself but is somehow still leaning in to Gil.

With a cursory nod to Gil, Jessica turns to her daughter and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Ainsley, baby, do you think you can make it downstairs?"

At Ainsley's nod, Jessica wraps an arm around her waist and helps her to her feet, holding her steady as they make their way out of the bedroom. Jessica sends one last worried glance towards Gil and Malcolm, but Gil offers a warm smile as reassurance and the two women exit the room, the fading sounds of Jessica's fussing following them down the hall.

Gil turns his attention back to Malcolm and finds the profiler's glassy eyes staring blankly ahead once more. He hauls himself off the floor with a grunt and turns to sit on the bed beside Malcolm.

"Bright? Is it okay if I touch you?" Gil's still unsure about what all happened while Watkins had him and doesn't want to risking triggering Malcolm with an unexpected touch. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm nods but remains staring at the ground in front of the bed, looking miserably lost. Gil moves slowly, lifting his hand and bringing it to the curve at the younger man's shoulder and neck. The touch is tentative at first, making sure Bright is truly alright with it before he presses a little harder and gives a light squeeze. It's a gesture that they're both familiar with and Gil is aware that Malcolm usually finds comfort from the contact.

He feels a small tremble beneath his hand before Malcolm crumples in on himself, dropping his face into his good hand as the tears begin to flow. Gil pulls him in automatically, wrapping his arms around the kid as he buries himself in Gil's chest, sobs tearing through his battered body. The tears that are flowing down Gil's own face are left unchecked as he holds Malcolm firmly with one arm and gently rubs his other hand up and down the kid's back, whispering mindless variations of, "Shhh, it's okay. You're okay now," over and over until Malcolm gets his breathing under control.

Even after the sobs finally die down, Malcolm keeps his face pressed up against Gil's chest and Gil is more than happy to keep him there in the safety of his arms. Eventually, when he feels Malcolm's muscles tense and knows he's about to pull back, he loosens his hold on him while still keeping a warm hand on his neck as he pulls away.

Bright looks up at him apologetically, tears still shimmering in his eyes and trapped in his eyelashes.

"Don't even think about apologizing, kid. You need to cry, you cry. You know I'm always here for you." Gil ducks his head a little lower to look him in the eye, making sure Malcolm understands he means it. Malcolm offers a shy smile and nods before brusquely wiping the tears from his face with his good hand.

Gil looks towards the door as he hears an increasing commotion filtering up from downstairs as more units and the ambulances arrive. He hears Jessica's voice as it carries above all others, ensuring they handle Ainsley gently and provide her with the best care.

He turns back to find Malcolm staring at him, the gears already turning in that big profiler's brain of his. Gil arches an eyebrow, silently asking what's on his mind.

"How did you find me? How did you know this was where Watkins took me?" His voice is rough and Gil has the immediate impression that he's done a fair amount of screaming during his time in captivity. Gil is suddenly glad that Watkins has already been removed from the house because he has an intense urge to find the man and make him pay.

"We can talk about that later. How bad are you hurt?" Gil deflects. He's not looking forward to telling Bright about the conversation with Martin. He doesn't want to see the hurt and disappointment that he knows will darken the kid's eyes when he hears how quickly his father had written him off for dead.

Gil can tell Malcolm is considering lying, his standard 'I'm fine' teetering on the tip of his tongue. Instead he huffs out a sigh and says, "The only major injuries are my hand and the stab wound. Everything else is superficial and—"

"Stab wound?" Gil's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline and he leans in, eyes zeroing in on the especially bloodstained patch of Malcolm's shirt near his side, only now noticing the tear in the fabric. "Jesus kid, how bad?" Gil reaches forward without thinking and Malcolm flinches back, _hard_ , with a groan. They both freeze for a moment, the world grinding to a sudden halt for both men.

Gil leans back and raises his hands, palms out, hoping to signal that he's not a threat, his heart breaking at the fact that Malcolm might think he is. The last thing he had wanted to do was make things worse, and he has to swallow around a lump in his throat as he realizes that's exactly what he did.

"I'm sorry," Gil whispers.

"No, no. Shit, Gil, I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm tired," Malcolm says in a classic understatement, but his breath is speeding into jagged pants and he pulls his right hand in to press into his left side.

"Bright?" Gil can tell something is wrong. Even in the dimness of the room, he can see the colour drain from Bright's already pallid face.

"I, uh, I think I might have reopened the wound." Malcolm pulls his hand back, the slick glare of blood coating his hand illuminated by the faint light filtering in through the curtains.

"Shit," Gil says under his breath. "I'm gonna go get the medics, just stay here, okay?" Gil stands but is stopped by Bright's hand tugging on his sleeve.

"Don't leave me." It's barely more than a whisper and Malcolm can't seem to look at Gil when he says it, his gaze directed once again to the floor. "Please."

Gil drops to a knee in front of Malcolm once again, cupping his face in his hands, but the kid is tilting dangerously forward and Gil doesn't even have time to respond before Bright's eyes flutter shut and he collapses into Gil, nearly sending them both sprawling to the floor before Gil is able to balance them.

"Bright? Bright!" The adrenaline floods through Gil's body as Malcolm's dead weight sinks further into his arms. He shifts to the side and slides an arm beneath Malcolm's knees while his other arm slips around his back, leaving his head resting in the crook of Gil's neck. With a grunt, Gil pushes to his feet, adjusting his grip to hold Malcolm's body more securely before he hurries out of the room and down the hall.

"I need a medic!" he shouts as he makes his way quickly down the stairs, moving as fast as he can manage without losing his balance or dropping Malcolm.

The paramedics meet him in the foyer, hurrying to pull a stretcher up for Gil to lay Malcolm's motionless body on. He's gentle as he lowers him to the bed; the kid has already been handled too roughly and he doesn't want to add to his hurts. The medics nudge him out of the way as soon as Bright is on the stretcher, checking his vitals and working to stem the bleeding. It's only when they cut open Malcolm's shirt that he sees how bad the wound really is. He can tell immediately it wasn't just a simple jab in. That fucker twisted the knife.

Rage washes over Gil, briefly overpowering his fear and leaving him shaking where he stands as the paramedics dress the wound and hook Malcolm up to an IV to replace some of the fluids that he's lost. Gil is vaguely aware of movement around him, officers coming and going through the house, and part of him notes that Jessica's voice isn't among the other voices that are accumulating around him in wordless sounds. She must've already gone to the hospital with Ainsley. He's glad. He already knows that he's never going to get the image of Malcolm, unresponsive and bleeding from a vicious stab wound, out of his head. He's grateful that it's not something she's around to see.

Gil follows the medics out to the ambulance and watches as they load Malcolm into the back of the rig. The oxygen mask is covering most of his face, but not so much that Gil can't see just how pale he is, leading him to wonder how much blood the kid had lost when Watkins stabbed him. He's also starting to wonder what else the man did to Malcolm while he had him.

As much as he wants to ride with Malcolm to the hospital, he needs to get the wheels in motion to process the scene. Still, it's with a heavy heart that he watches the doors of the ambulance close, Bright closed off behind them looking so damn small on the stretcher.

Gil turns back to the house. He intends to make it quick, make sure that procedure is followed and nothing is missed. He wants someone he can trust running the investigation, since he won't be cleared to run it himself. He has a few terse conversations with some of the officers that are now swarming the house before he hears from a young cop about a hidden room in the basement.

"How crazy is this, right? All these hidden tunnels under the house? Makes you wonder how many more there are in the city," the young man rambles as he leads Gil to the secret entrance.

Gil doesn't even acknowledge the officer, just bends down to climb through the low opening.

The room where Malcolm was held is easy to find. The lights are still on and the blood is tacky and congealing on the floor. Gil thinks back to the chain dangling from Malcolm's wrist when he sees the anchor ring on the floor next to the large pool of blood, giving him an unfortunately vivid idea of how things played out.

He can't look away. His jaw aches with the force of his grinding teeth and he forces himself to take slow, deep breaths through his nose to tamp down the anger that's surging through him. He gives himself a minute to be angry, to get pissed off about what Malcolm was forced to endure, and then he turns on his heel and walks away.

He's quick to assign duties after that. The need to get to the hospital and make sure Malcolm is alright is intensifying by the second, a weight settling heavy on his chest. It's not long before he's jogging out to the Le Mans then maneuvering the car out of the riot of police cruisers, crime scene vans and looky-loos that have perched in the streets.

He forces himself to keep to the speed limit, tempted though he is to use the siren. His mind is playing an infinite loop of Bright collapsing, the medics cutting his shirt open to reveal the gaping knife wound, the room where Watkins chained him down and made him bleed. The heaviness in his chest grows worse with every loop so that by the time he reaches the hospital, it's nearly crushing him.

A quick flash of the badge gets him the information he needs; Bright is still in surgery.

He takes the time to find Ainsley and Jessica in the ER, waiting for the results of her CT scan. Ainsley is resting peacefully on the bed, her head wound closed with butterfly stips, most of the blood cleaned away though Gil still notices dried blood crusted in her hair. Jessica is sitting beside the bed, head bowed as she holds her daughter's hand. She looks up when she hears him walk in and pushes herself to her feet, concern etching her features.

"How is he?" Her voice wavers as she asks, like she's preparing herself for bad news.

"In surgery," he says and then grips her upper arms as tears flood her eyes. "I spoke to a nurse, she said it's going well and he'll be out soon."

He runs his hands soothingly up and down her arms, wishing he could do more to quell her fears. Both of her children are in the hospital and he knows that it's killing her.

"Look Jess, they're both gonna be fine. And John Watkins will never be able to hurt your family again. Let's just be grateful for that today and everything else can wait until tomorrow, hmm?"

She sniffles and gives a hesitant nod, her eyes searching his face. "You'll stay with him?"

"Of course." Gil is thankful that Jessica seems to realize Malcolm is more likely to open up to him rather than her about everything that happened. And he's honoured that she trusts him enough to place Malcolm in his care when he knows all she wants to do is be next to his bed when he wakes up. "I'll keep you updated. Take care of Ainsley."

A watery smile is the best she can manage and Gil leaves her to her worries as he heads back to the ward where Malcolm will be taken following surgery. It's a long wait in the hard plastic chairs, but he takes the time to text with JT and Dani about the case, relaxing just a little when he knows they're on it; JT is at the precinct to interview Watkins, while Dani is at Jessica's home, ensuring the scene is properly tended to. He leans his head back against the wall after yet another angry text from Colette, which he dismisses along with the others, when a nurse comes into the waiting room and lets him know that Bright is settled in a room but still unconscious.

"Can I see him?" he asks hopefully.

"Of course, but the effects of the anesthesia likely won't wear off for a couple of hours." she warns as she leads him from the room, down several halls, finally stopping in front of a room with a large window to see inside. She leaves him outside the room and he takes a second to look at Bright through the glass before he quietly makes his way in.

Bright is hooked up to several machines, an abundance of lines and tubes connecting to his body. It gives Gil the same sinking feeling he had when it was Jackie hooked up to all these machines and he falls into the chair beside the bed with a huff, scrubbing a hand over his goatee as he centers himself in the here and now.

He leans forward and grabs Malcolm's hand, careful to avoid the IV line. He looks up at Malcolm's face and feels a tiny spike of anger at the universe that the only time the kid looks this peaceful is when he's just come out of surgery and is well and truly sedated. He lets the anger flow through and pass along, knowing full well that guilt and anxiety will follow hot on its heels. He's not wrong.

It eats at him as he waits, never letting go of the kid's hand, being here for him like he wasn't before.

It's a surprisingly short wait for Bright to wake up, although Gil supposes he should have expected Malcolm to fight the sedation, for his body to burn through it faster than normal. It takes several minutes for him to fully come to, but his eyes land on Gil as soon as the glassy expression fades.

"Hey," Gil whispers, giving Malcolm's hand a light squeeze. "How you feeling?"

Malcolm tries to answer but has to stop to clear his throat, sore from the intubation tube. Gil moves to get a small amount of water from the plastic jug beside the bed, helping Bright to hold it to his lips as he takes a few sips.

"Thanks," Malcolm rasps. "Feels like I've been stabbed, broke my hand with a hammer and was given exceptional painkillers to help mute the pain." He flashes an obviously fake smile at the detective before it falters and he looks away.

Gil places the water cup back on the bedside table and sits back down, once again taking Malcolm's hand in his own. Gil wants to apologize for not finding him faster, for not stopping him from being taken at all, but now's not the time to try to assuage his own guilt.

"Are you here for my statement?" Malcolm asks after a moment, looking at Gil's shoulder rather than looking him in the eye.

"No," Gil says firmly. "You'll have to give a statement, of course, but not right now and not to me. I'm here to make sure you're alright. And to let you know I'm here if you want to talk about what happened."

They stare at one another in silence, Bright finally making eye contact and reading the detective like he does their killers, each man weighing what needs to be said against what needs to be kept hidden.

"Malcolm, are you okay?" Gil asks solemnly. Everything else can wait, but he needs to know that Malcolm is going to come out of this whole situation in one piece. They share a look and he knows that Malcolm understands he's not just asking about the physical wounds.

Malcolm takes a moment to answer, and Gil can tell that he's actually thinking about it, digging deep inside to assess the damage and search for any breaks.

"I will be," he says honestly, "eventually."

Gil knows it will be a bumpy road, but he believes him.


End file.
